


Cosmic Jive

by fearandlothering



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearandlothering/pseuds/fearandlothering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith Quill's soundtrack may have been the backbone to her son's chance to save the galaxy, but such an inspiration had her own rebel yell sounding out across the stars. Meredith's own journey of self-discovery finds her covered in the very real dust of stars. A Guardians of the Galaxy prequel fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic Jive

_Seems I'm not alone at being alone_   
_A hundred billion casatways_   
_Looking for a home_

 

**SEPTEMBER, 1979.**

_  
_

Meredith would have given anything for a pair of headphones, or earplugs at the very least, as she curled up as much as the safety belt would allow in the front seat of her friend’s car. Lisa had been the one to suggest herself as a driver for this impromptu trip to Kansas City for a concert she was not terribly invested in. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect escape, too good to be true, but too rare to waste: something to do in the middle of nowhere, a friend to do it with, enough time to blare music through the new tape deck in Lisa’s car to avoid three hours (six, with the return trip back toward St. Louis) of awkward conversation.

But as a terrible mix with KISS and Racey back-to-back blared through the speakers for the 20th time, and the car shook so violently that Meredith could feel bile rising up her throat, she realized that ‘too good to be true” had been far more apropos. If the urge to vomit had been more metaphoric, she may have commented on it.

The car lurched forward violently, as if in response to her silent complaint, and groaned loudly as Lisa continued to accelerate. She paid the strange behavior of her car no mind, but finally, after gaining a modicum of composure, Meredith ran a shaky hand through her “I want it to look exactly like Joan Jett’s” hair and reached forward to turn the volume on the tape deck down.

“Lisa, is this normal?”

The girl shrugged, the open window blowing her long sandy-blonde hair wildly, and she continued to focus forward. “Hey can you turn that back on?”

“Lisa—”

But instead of answering through the wind howling through the windows, or over the now-quiet mixtape, Lisa reached over, and turned the knob back for the volume.

 With a great sigh, Meredith turned it all the way off. “Why does your car sound like it isn’t shifting?”

 Lisa rolled her eyes, and she finally turned back from the road to glance at her friend, before refocusing. “It does that on its own, it’s an automatic.”

Meredith glanced down to the glossy black joystick wedged between their seats and gaped before the vehicle shuddered again and she was forced to throw herself back against her seat for stability.

“Then your brother is a terrible driver,” Meredith groaned finally, after a moment of trying to battle her rising nausea. Seeing the Kinks live had called for big hair-teasing and more makeup than she usually bothered with, but she hardly cared about her hair deflating now as her sole focus was on keeping her stomach in the right place.

Lisa barely had time to indignantly ask what she was talking ( _my brother taught me to drive just fine, Meredith, thank you_ ) about before the vehicle came to a halt and stalled out in the middle of the highway, smoke already rising from underneath the hood.

Of course, the one time Meredith had convinced her father that a three-hour roadtrip across the state wouldn’t end in disaster. On the bright side, however, she could finally sit back in the seat without her insides swimming as badly as her head. 

Downside: well. While both of them were educated, smart girls, neither of them knew how to do much more than change a tire or the oil in any car. Let alone how to fix an improperly used manual-transmission. And, several miles out from the last gas station, the walk, repairs, pick ups, and confessions to family would take far too long to make it the two hours farther to Kansas City on time. Hosed concert tickets? That would be a crime  _without_ the finances, or having to explain what had happened.

Lisa was the first out of the car, as she hurried to pop the hood. More smoke billowed out, and Meredith heard an awful coughing fit through the open window. “What’s it look like?” she called from her lounging position inside the car.

“Like your scrawny ass isn’t helping, Ziggy Stardust,” she answered with a sigh.

Meredith knew it was nerves, not anger, that gave her voice such a clipped edge, but it still managed to sting, even under so many layers of what she'd thought was appropriate armor. She grimaced and clenched her fist to keep her focus on the pain and not the words threatening to spill out.

_Only hope can keep me together,_  
 _Love can mend your life,  
_ _But love can break your heart._

She lifted herself out of the car on shaky legs, taking the opportunity to take in fresh air that hadn’t been filtered in through the car’s musty air-intake, and casually leaned back against the door, as she looked up into the darkening sky. The still-bright hues of pinks and purples still managed to cover the stars, a gaudy unveiling to the unmatchable breadth and majesty of space.  _We’re made of stars,_ she thought.  _All of us. And a day will come when they’ll stare back at us as we do them._

“What do you want to do?” Meredith asked when she’d finally gotten bearing on her surroundings and a fast hold back on her stomach. “The last pay phone was at least two miles back.”

The voice sounding back had lost the angry edge, sounding disappointed, defeated, and Lisa moved away from the hood reluctantly, as if she might have a sudden genius engineering epiphany. “We don’t have a choice, Mere. God, I’m so—”

_Sorry_ . The word sat unused between them, with too much weight to find proper voice.

Meredith shook her head, and instead moved to link arms with her friend. Lisa’s fingers wrapped around her arm so easily, and in the warmth of them, Meredith almost forgot they’d both sworn to stop this.

***

It had barely been two months since Meredith had been self-confined to her bed, laid face down and sobbing into a pillow over the news. When her father had finally heard the noise past the close of the record she'd left on at full volume, he hadn’t pried. Instead, he’d sat on the edge of her bed, hand gently on her shoulder until the tears subsided. They’d sat in silence like this for minutes. An hour, perhaps. But he never pushed. It had been up to Meredith to explain. If she wanted.

 “She left,” she said, quietly the words muffled by the pillow. The tear-damp fabric got uncomfortable to breathe around, but she kept her face firmly planted.

 “Lisa?” he had asked, simply.

Meredith had nodded with a heavy sigh. “She—” and suddenly the words had frozen, and she knew, even in that small, immeasurable pause, that what she said or didn't might only make things worse. For good. But she hadn't ever been the sort to keep it bottled or hidden, and the shame overwhelming her had only confused and upset her more, filling her heart with a heated unsettled anxiety and a dreaded weight all at once.

“She said what we were doing wasn't right.” Another sharp intake of breath. “That there was something wrong with us.”

Her father hadn't needed any other explanation, and huffed, loudly. Meredith's heart, in that moment, had stopped. “Mere, nothing's wrong with you. ‘Cept maybe needing better friends.”

***

Meredith swallowed heavy against the memory and shoved it away, forcing a smile. It was no use here. Not anymore. And certainly not in the middle of nowhere with no ride and no help. All they had was each other. (The way it used to be.) “Save it, Lise. It’ll be an adventure. We sort of signed up for one of those, at least?”


End file.
